Together
by Irisfan
Summary: A look at how things could have unfolded in the second series finale. A story centered around Justin and Iris.
1. Chapter 1

His arm wrapped around her waist and his hand clutched her wrist possessively. Part of the reason he held her so tightly was to ensure that she didn't bolt away from him. The other part of the reason he gripped her so firmly was much more complicated. Justin wanted, no he needed, to feel her close to him. It had been so long since he'd been given an excuse to touch her. Justin frowned involuntarily. When had he started needing excuses to reach out to her? It used to have been so easy between the two of them. She'd know what he was thinking before he'd even finished forming the thought. The first night they had shared together had come not because of a spoken request but because of an unspoken one. She'd known what he wanted that night and she hadn't made him ask. She never did.

Justin was jolted back to the present by Iris' attempt to pull away from his grasp. He increased the tension in his grip as he smiled down upon her affectionately. When would she learn that he'd never let her go willingly? She belonged by his side and no force on earth would compel him to release her.

Although he knew it was a trap, Justin relished seeing what this boy had in store for him. Yes, he'd ride the ferris wheel and he'd make sure Iris was by his side as he did. It was the only way that he could ensure her safety. Justin expected a plan of attack worthy of his sworn enemy and there was no way he'd allow Iris to be caught in the crossfire. He had briefly toyed with the idea of having Stroud protect her but has vetoed that idea after seeing the way Stroud had been looking at her recently.

The little man before him pointed the way to the machine known as Colossus. He willed Iris along and helped her into the bucket seat. Her hand tightened around his fingers and her breathe had become shallow. A slight flush had crept into her cheeks making Iris look unbelievably fragile. The effect upon Justin was instantaneous. Iris so rarely let her calm demeanor falter that the rare occasions she did were doubly enticing. Justin inhaled deeply trying to control his growing desire for her. He felt the ferris wheel lurch into action. Justin pulled Iris closer to his side and the feel of her trembling next to him set off within him a wave of emotions. A part of Justin hated putting her through this farce. Justin knew he was being cruel to use her fears against her but the chance of her being harmed was not a risk he was willing to take. And yet, still there was something in Justin that welcomed her fear. He understood that with fear comes control. Such control was a necessity if he was ever going to gain dominance over her.

The ride picked up steam and Justin clung to Iris. The wind whipped her skirt up giving him a tantalizing view of her legs. He stared at her without shame and watched her chew on her lip with eyes closed. The ride came to stop with them sitting high above the fairgrounds and he whispered in her ear to look at the beauty that surrounded them. From atop the ride, they had a clear vision of the camp and the migrants that inhabited it. Everything Justin wanted was so close now. With the death of the boy would come his boon and with his boon he would be indestructible. Justin glanced over at Iris. Did she know? Did she suspect that his hour for greatness was at hand? He lifted his hand to brush a piece of errant hair that the wind had blown across her cheek. He would have everything tonight- including her. He felt his heart lurch at the prospect of having her again. It had been so long since he'd allowed himself to be baptized by her skin. While it was the promise of power that compelled him to act tonight, it was the promise of her that stirred his now blue blood.

From below Justin heard what seemed to be an act taking center stage. A man was calling to the crowd offering them the chance to be healed. Justin felt the tattoo on his chest start to burn and knew that the boy was within the tent. Smirking, Justin sat back in the seat and let his one hand caress Iris' thigh. If this was the best the boy could do, then tonight would be easier than he'd expected. Just as Justin was about to lean into Iris he felt a searing pain take a hold of his head. The pain was unbearable and he let out a wail. Justin could feel Iris touching him and could hear her questions but he was too racked with pain to answer. The pain was followed by a white, scolding heat to his eyes that caused his body to convulse. Iris was crying now for the ride to stop and the fear he heard in her voice caused a well of hatred to rise up within him. He would make sure the boy suffered for this tonight. As the pain subsided, Justin closed his eyes and willed himself stronger. Just as he was ready to take control of the situation, a shock of pain hit his chest like a well-placed bulls eye. He felt as though his chest was on fire and was threatening to be ripped open. The burning was so intense that Justin unthinkingly ripped the shirt from his body exposing his chest.

He heard her scream then and knew it was the sight of his body that had provoked the response. Justin threw back his head and growled in a mixture of pain and anger. The boy had done this! He had robbed Justin of the chance to unveil himself to Iris in private. To ensure that she wouldn't be horrified by the sight of him. Now Justin could feel her disgust and fear wash over him. She was slipping away from him and his body was too racked with pain from the boy to stop it.


	2. Chapter 2

Calling on the powers that lie within him, Justin summoned his strength to order the ferris wheel to stop. His body was spent but he was propelled forward in his task by his desire to inflict pain in the boy. Before Justin had been content to simply slit his throat and be done with it. But that was before the boy had risked things for Justin with Iris.

Iris.

He could feel her eyes upon him and could sense her desire to escape from him. Justin knew without looking at her that the only thing keeping her from running from him was shock. He couldn't bring himself to look into her eyes. He was too afraid of what he might find. So Justin stumbled from the ride and grabbed Stroud by the shirt. "See to the girl," he hissed.

Summoning his strength, Justin made his way over to the prayer tent he had spied from atop of the ferris wheel. Reaching into his coat, he removed the sickle. Cries and shrieks echoed around him as people struggled to take in the unfolding scene. Reaching the tent, Justin increased his grip of his sickle until his knuckles turned white. He threw back the canvas top to reveal a tent inhabited by a number of migrants who had come for the promise of a healing. His black eyes blazed evil, causing the sea of people to part before him. In the back of the room, he saw Norman's eyes grow big at the sight of him. Justin's chest burned and he knew the boy was close at hand. He made his way over to the main stage swinging the sickle indiscriminately. Cries of pain intermingled with shrieks of horror surrounded him and exhilarated his spirit. With each cut, he grew stronger. Each tear of flesh from another ignited his soul.

Blood splattered across Justin's body infusing him with an energy that propelled him forward. In the midst of chaos, Justin felt at peace. He took a moment to watch his flock scurry before him like rats on a sinking ship. They were directionless without him. Justin stood up straighter ready to embrace his destiny. As he stepped forward, the small man he had met earlier in the day intercepted him. The little man opened his mouth and let out the loud command "Run!" Justin thought the command odd given that everyone around them was attempting to flee the barbaric scene. Still Justin thought the little man could be of use.

Towering over the little man, Justin growled, "Where is the boy!" Samson raised his eyes unblinking to meet Justin's and replied steadily, "I don't know. Where's Miss Iris?" The threat hung in the air between them and Samson saw Justin flinch at the mention of his sister's name. Knowing he had touched a nerve, Samson added quickly "In all this confusion I'd sure hate for her to get lost." In one fluid motion, Justin lifted the little man up by his jacket so that their eyes met. Justin penetrated Samson's mind and was relieved to find that Samson had no knowledge of Iris' whereabouts. "I'm going to enjoy ripping the flesh from your body," Justin said smiling cruelly.

"Hey preacher! We got business."

Justin spun around in the direction of the voice dropping Samson to the ground like a rag toy. A slow smile crept across Justin's face as the boy came into view. From across the room, Justin watched as Ben placed his hands upon Norman. The knifing pain that cut through him confirmed to Justin that Norman had been healed.

The pain brought Justin to his knees and when he looked up it was just in time to see Norman and the boy fleeing from the tent. Punching his fist into the dust-laden ground, Justin roared in frustration. He summoned the strength to stand and was just about to follow the boy into the night when Stroud appeared.

Justin's eyes watched as Stroud took in the carnage that surrounded them. When Stroud finally made eye contact with Justin his face held an awe and respect for the disaster that Justin had caused. As Justin started to step past him, Stroud grabbed Justin by the arm and whispered, "There was a problem." Turning slowly, Justin looked down into Stroud's eyes with such blackness that Stroud took an involuntary step back. "What I mean," Stroud continued, "is that the girl got away." Seeing Justin's eyes begin to flash, Stroud quickly added "But don't you worry. She won't get off the property. I got all of our guys looking for her."

"I gave you one job Varlyn. How am I to trust you to be able to carry out further orders when you can't even perform the simplest of tasks?" asked Justin evenly as he ran the sickle between his thumb and forefinger. Drops of blood fell from the blade coloring Justin's hands a dark brown. He stepped toward Stroud twisting the handle of the sickle in his hand.

Stroud hung his head like a child ready to receive his punishment and replied softly, "I was going to look for the girl myself but I thought I'd better get back down here. The way Iris looked I thought you'd need me here."

At the sound of Iris' name, Justin froze. "What do you mean the way she looked? When did you see my sister?"

Stroud looked up surprised. "I passed her when I was coming down from the shack. She looked powerful scared and was running toward the house. The old coot was right behind her."

"Norman?"

"Yes sir. He was running after her calling her name. Guess he was playing possum in that chair." Stroud watched with an audible sigh of relief as Justin let sickle fall to his side.

Justin walked over to stand directly in front of Stroud and murmured, "Find me the girl or don't come back."

"I won't disappoint you again."

Justin watched as Stroud made his way from the tent with determination etched all over his face. Justin's need to find the boy was great but so too was his need to find Iris. This night that had started with such promise had become an unmitigated disaster. Looking for the boy now would be foolish. He needed time to regroup and formulate his next move. A lifetime of learned restraint had prepared Justin well for the process of waiting. He didn't like it but he could wait to kill the boy.

What Justin couldn't wait for was to find Iris. He had never felt her disapproval before in such an intimate manner and the feeling chilled Justin to the bone. She'd seen who he had become and she had fled from him. Justin looked around at the broken bodies and severed limbs that surrounded him and thanked God she hadn't born witness to this scene. He had to find her before it was too late. Before Norman had time to poison her against him. Buttoning up his shirt, Justin walked through the tent flap into the darkness of night determined to reclaim Iris.


	3. Chapter 3

The brittle ground cracked in thirst at every step Justin took toward the house. He could see a single light shining from the parlor and knew he'd find her there. The door was ajar as if it had been left open in haste and Justin took the opportunity to slip in unnoticed. The scene that greeted him was not one he had expected.

Iris was kneeling in prayer with tears streaming down her face as Norman stood above her. He was imploring her to come with him and leave Justin behind. Iris was shaking her head no at Norman's pleas and was repeating a prayer in Russian. Justin recognized it as one their mother had taught them as children.

"Please child come with me. It is the only way we can hope to stop him." Norman crouched down to take Iris' face in his hands. He gently wiped away the tears and tilted her head so she was forced to look him in the eyes. "The Justin you love doesn't exist anymore," he continued. "You must leave this house and him if you ever hope to find redemption for your sins. It isn't too late."

Looking into her eyes, Norman could see he was starting to break through the wall she had erected. He watched as she swallowed preparing to speak. Just as her lips parted to answer his plea, Justin stepped into view from the hallway.

"I think that is quite enough."

Iris and Norman both looked up and were shocked at the image that stood in front of them. Justin's face was streaked with the remnants of the blood of his victims and the carnage of the night was evident in dark splotches that decorated his pants. His shirt had been buttoned hastily resulting in two buttons having come undone giving just the smallest glimmer of the tattoo that marked his body. But it wasn't his appearance that shocked Norman and Iris into silence. It was the dead look in his eyes as he glowered at Norman.

Justin stepped forward and crouched down to where Norman still kneeled. "Now, now Norman. Is this any way to repay me for taking such good care of you these past few months?" Justin's lips slowly spread into a mocking grin.

"Imagine my surprise to come into my home and find you trying to sway Iris away from me. I would call that a betrayal wouldn't you Norman? And let me see if I remember what the price of betrayal is according to the Bible. Ah yes, death." Justin spat the last word at Norman for added effect.

Norman studied the man before him. He searched Justin's face for the boy he had raised and found that no such boy still existed. The man before him now was a monster; an instrument of Satan.

Hearing Iris inhale sharply at the mention of the word "death," Justin turned to face his sister. His eyes softened and he reached out to stroke her check lovingly. He bent his mouth to her ear and said in little more than a whisper "I've come for you Irina."

Watching the scene unfold before him, Norman realized this was the time to strike. He took advantage of Justin's attention to Iris to shove him roughly onto the floor. Seizing upon Justin's shock, Norman grabbed onto Justin, placed his palm firmly against Justin's head, and cried, "I command thee, in the name and by power of the real presence of Our Lord, to depart instantly."

Justin began to howl in laughter at Norman's clumsy attempt to destroy him. He threw Norman off him with such a force that it sent the old man flying across the room and into the couch. Getting to his feet, Justin stood and looked over at his former mentor. "You know," said Justin slowly "I never fully realized what a pathetic old man you've become. To kill you now will be a mercy you don't deserve."

Justin felt two familiar hands grasp onto his arm as he started for Norman. "No" was all she said to him but it was enough to stop him in his tracks. He watched as she pulled her self to her feet using his arm as leverage. "No," she repeated. Justin looked down into the face of the woman he loved and found himself powerless to resist her command.

Iris nodded her head slightly in acknowledgement of Justin's acquiescence and looked over at Norman. The tears that had flown so freely just minutes before again rolled down her cheeks. Justin encircled her waist with his arm and started to direct her across the floor to the stairs. Summoning all of his strength, Norman rose to block the doorway.

"I won't allow you to condemn her to hell," he said steadily to Justin. The words had their desired impact as Norman watched Justin flinch. "If you love her, you'll let her leave with me. Free her to find salvation Justin." Norman watched as Justin's face flushed from an unspoken fury.

"She belongs to me" was Justin's only reply. Seeing he would get nowhere with Justin, Norman turned his attention to Iris. "Iris, please come with me. You are not forsaken my child. There is always redemption if you want it."

Justin could feel Iris responding to Norman. He turned to face her blocking her vision of Norman. "Irina listen to me." He cupped her face in his hands. "We will have our temple on the hill but you must have faith in me. We are in this together." Iris shut her eyes as images from the last year played across her mind. _Children screaming. Being offered to Tommy Dolan. Kneeling on glass until her knees had come numb. Hearing the headboard pound as Justin poured himself into yet another maid. Rejection. Always rejection. Justin had done this all to her and without remorse_. She opened her eyes and gazed at Justin with new clarity.

"I can't be with you anymore."

Justin felt a wave of nausea come sweeping over him as the reality of her words hit him. She wanted to leave and would if he did not stop her. He dropped his hands from her face and searched her eyes for any doubt that he could exploit. Finding none, he sighed.

"You are just confused my dear. This day has been stressful and you don't know what you are saying. You could no sooner live without me as I could live without you." He took her hands in his and smiled. "We will talk about all of this later." Justin bent down and kissed her lightly bringing his hand up to gently stroke her hair.

Witnessing this intimate gesture, Norman saw clearly for the first time the extent of their relationship. "Dear God, you are in love with her." Norman's thoughts were confirmed when he saw Iris dip her head in silent submission.

"Enough! She doubts me because of you. Because of the lies you have told her."

"No son, she doubts you because you've given her no reason not to."

The truth of Norman's words hit Justin deep to his core. All of his self-control faltered at that moment and he slowly removed the sickle from his coat. "Wait outside for me Iris," he commanded never taking his eyes off Norman.

"Justin please don't," she pleaded. He turned to look in her eyes and all Iris saw was blackness. "I don't want you to see this Iris. Step outside. I won't tell you again." Justin said those words so calmly that for a minute Iris felt she might still find a way to spare Norman. This thought was shattered by Justin unbuttoning his shirt to reveal the tattoo that marred his body. "I want this to be the last thing you see on earth." Justin chuckled as he saw Norman close his eyes and begin to pray for Justin's soul. "Pretty words but they'll be of no help to you now." Justin lifted the sickle preparing to bring it down upon the only father he had ever known.

"Justin NO!" Before he had time to register the voice, the sickle plunged down and landed into the chest of the one person Justin could have never killed intentionally. She fell to her knees before him and for a moment he was sure he was having a vision. A tiny circle of blood began to grow larger across her blue dress letting Justin know this was no vision.

He watched in horror as Iris crumbled to the floor to lie at his feet. His mind was telling him to stop the bleeding but his body was frozen. He hadn't seen her move to stand in front of Norman. Hadn't heard her cry out. Justin fell to his knees wailing in anguish "Irina." He could hear her silent screams as they echoed in her mind. Could feel the pain as it seared through her body. He heard her calling to him. "_Alexsei please. Help me."_ He knew the only way to save her would be to stop the bleeding and that would require tearing the sickle from her body. Justin clutched the handle of the sickle firmly and in one motion pulled it from her body. Her cries of torture at his movement were immediate. He bent to cover her body with his own. To try and stop the blood that was coming now faster than he could control. For the first time he was aware of Norman kneeling by his side. Norman had placed both of his hands upon Iris and with tears, streaming down his face was uttering words Justin recognized as last rites given to the dying.

Pools of blood stretched across the wooden floor as Justin pushed Norman's hands away from Iris. She wasn't dying. He would not allow it. He pressed his way into her mind and could feel her letting go. He cried to her, "Don't you dare leave me Irina. Do you hear me? Do not leave me!" but it was to no avail. Her cries subsided and he could feel her slipping away. He watched as the last breathe of life traveled up from her chest. Quickly he bent down to cover her mouth with his own intent on capturing her last breathe. Minutes passed and he finally drew away from her lips. He pressed into her mind and found nothing but silence.


	4. Chapter 4

The chiming of the grandfather clock that stood in the front hallway broke Norman's silent revelry. He'd lost track of how long they'd been there. Hours had easily passed since Iris had slipped away from them. Norman's heart wept as he gazed upon the lifeless body of his adopted daughter. But it was the sight of Justin that haunted Norman. He hadn't moved an inch in the hours that had passed. Justin still sat on the floor with Iris' lifeless body draped over him, her head cradled in his lap.

It was the look in his eyes that was of most concern to Norman. A cold, rigid frost had settled in him giving his eyes the hard dead look of polished black onyx. His hand was stroking her hair and he was whispering to her in Russian. For a moment, Norman was reminded of the boy who used to sit at his feet reading Bible stories. Despite everything that had happened between the two of them, Norman felt his soul reach out to Justin at this terrible moment.

Norman let his eyes linger upon Justin's face. It was unreadable but then Norman had never been very good at sensing Justin's moods. Only Iris had the ability to read him correctly. Iris. Norman shut his eyes as the image of her death played out before him. She was dead because of him. He looked down at the red stains upon the floor. Some of the blood had dried creating tiny hard tips among the gelatinous pools.

Looking back at Justin, Norman let his mind wander back to the happy moments they had shared as a family. It was so clear now. How could he have missed the signs for all these years? He had always known theirconnection went beyond brother and sister and yet, he had never suspected that they would have crossed such a sacred line. But seeing Justin gaze  
down upon Iris, Norman had to admit that the private grief he was witnessing was not so much that of a brother for a sister but that of two lovers separated before their time.

"She's gone son."

Norman's words cut through the space between them. Justin looked up surprised . He'd forgotten about Norman. A cold liquid ice ran through Justin as he gazed upon his former mentor. Norman flinched as he realized what it was that he saw reflected in Justin's stare.  
Confusion. He had expected fury or perhaps even anguish but not this. There was a dislocation in Justin's countenance that told Norman that Justin's grasp on reality was tenuous at best.

"Son, we have to take care of her now." Norman rose to his knees and crawled toward Justin hesitantly. He stretched out his hand in much the same posture he would use to approach a wild animal. "Why don't you let me have her. We need to pray for her." The moment the words came out of his mouth Norman knew he had made a mistake.

"Pray?" Justin tilted his head incredulously. "And to whom am I to pray? It is you that should kneel before me and ask forgiveness for what you have done!" Justin grabbed hold of Iris and drew her up to his chest. "You can't have her. She belongs to me and I won't give her up."

Norman shook his head uncertain as to how to get Justin to understand. "Son, you must let her go now to be with her Creator. She's home." Norman hoped his words would offer some small comfort but instead they only served to fuel Justin's ire.

"Home? Her home is with me." Justin struggled to his feet as he clutched Iris' body firmly to his own. He paused to look at Norman, defying him to try and take Iris from him. Seeing that Norman made no move toward him, Justin carried Iris over to the couch where he laid her down softly. He placed his lips to her forehead kissing her delicately, as if he were afraid she might awake. Finally he stood and turned to face Norman.

The doubt that had clouded Justin's eyes just moments before had been replaced with a steely resolve. In that moment, Norman was reminded of the parable of the unmerciful servant.

"The good book says 'an eye for an eye,' isn't that right Norman?" Justin's mocking tone put Norman on edge immediately. "You do realize that you're the reason she's hurt?"

For a moment, Norman's head fell as he felt his accountability in Iris' death. He would not defend himself but he would not be made a scapegoat either. Bracing himself, Norman lifted his head to face Justin. "She isn't hurt Justin. Iris is dead. And you're the one who killed her."

Norman watched as the reality of his words washed over Justin. He could see the truth dawning within him. A myriad of emotions played out upon his face. Shock. Horror. Guilt. Until he settled finally upon fury.

"You're the reason she's….." Justin let his words trail off unable to admit Iris was gone. "You are the one who should be dead." Sensing that Justin was about to pounce, Norman bent down quickly and grabbed hold of the sickle that lay at his feet.

Justin watched Norman with an expression of disgust. "You really think you can kill me? You had your chance and you failed."

Norman tightened his hold upon the sickle and swallowed hard. "I'm prepared to do what I should have done before."

Justin's eyes bore down into his former mentor. Norman watched in dismay as his own right arm, which clutched the sickle, rose above his head as if possessed by some unseen force. He cried out as his right arm suddenly dropped across his left side leaving a gaping wound. The pain was so great Norman feared he might lose consciousness. But it was Justin's laughter at him that kept him to succumbing from the pain induced blackness. His right arm fell to his side and Norman felt the steel tip point of the blade pierce his skin on his thigh. Slowly, he felt his arm drag upwards carving a deep wound from his knee to his hip. Tears sprung to Norman's eyes as the pain became too great. He felt his hold on the sickle falter and heard it drop to the floor with a muffled thud.

Norman could feel himself begin to sway as the pain overtook his body.With all of his remaining strength, he watched as Justin bent to retrieve the sickle. In one stride, Justin stepped to stand in front of Norman. He bent down so that his lips were adjacent to Norman's ear and whispered "This is for Irina." Norman gasped as he felt the steel  
penetrate his abdomen and twist slowly within him. He prayed for death now but Justin had other plans. Leaving the sickle inside Norman, Justin pushed the old man to the floor.

"I could end your life now but then where would the justice be in that." Justin knelt down and hovered above Norman. "I want you to suffer for what you have done."

Satisfied that Norman would face a slow death, Justin turned back to Iris. He walked to the couch and kneeled at her side. Stroking her cheek, Justin was concerned to find how cold her skin was to his touch. He reached for a blanket and draped it over her, carefully tucking in the corners just the way she liked it. "You just sleep now dear. You're tired I know. I shouldn't let you work so hard. You just rest and when I come back I'll make you better. Remember my dear, I will always come back for you!"

Justin stood and looked one more time at Norman writhing in pain on the floor. Norman was just the beginning. While the boy would be next, he'd not forget about all of the others who had worked to defeat him this night. They were responsible for what had occurred just as much as the boy and Norman. Yes, they would all die. He would carve open their bodies and watch as the blood drained away. Only then would he find absolution for his Iris.


	5. Chapter 5

Varlyn Stroud leaned against the porch frame and took a slow drag from his cigarette. He was not a man used to feeling incompetent but then again, this night had brought about many unexpected emotions. He had warned Justin that the carnival was a trap but Justin had been insistent. Try as he might, Varlyn could not get an accurate read on Justin. To be sure, Varlyn was in awe of Justin. His power, his presence….all of those qualities Varlyn recognized as lacking in himself.

Before they had left the house this evening, Varlyn had been embraced as a true believer and one of Justin's most trusted confidents. By the end of the night, he had been issued an ultimatum. Find the maid girl or don't bother coming back. Rolling the cigarette between his calloused fingers, Varlyn let out a frustrated grunt. He had looked high and low for that bitch and had come up empty handed. The only thing left to do he supposed was go back to the house to see is she had wandered back.

He hated the idea of walking into that house without the girl. Justin would be in no mood for excuses. There was the possibility that Justin would still be gone but that could mean even bigger problems. Varlyn had seen the way Justin's eyes had narrowed into suspicious slits every time Iris entered a room where Varlyn was present. In a strange way, it was almost as if Justin could read his mind and see the many ways in which Varlyn dreamt of defiling Iris.

A slight smile played across Varlyn Stroud's face as he remembered shoving Iris against the wall as he rammed his tongue down her throat. She had been shocked but had held her own. Varyln respected that. Most women would have run to tell their brother but Iris had just resumed her daily schedule the next day as if nothing had happened. Before he could decide whether to make his way down to the house, Varlyn noticed a car was speeding its way up the solitary road to the shack.

He flicked his cigarette stub onto the battered beams of the makeshift porch and took out his gun. Twirling the chamber, Varlyn hoped it was someone disposable coming up the road. A good old-fashioned killing would go a long way in boosting his shaky confidence this evening. Cocking the gun, Varlyn aimed for the car and waited for the driver to reveal himself. He was more than a little surprised to see Justin come barreling out of the driver's side.

Putting the gun back in the holster, Varlyn stood up straight to greet his Prophet. "Brother Justin what are you…." His words were cut short as soon as Justin's face became clear in the moonlight. Justin wore an expression Varlyn had never seen on him before. The cracks on Justin's face intermingled with the lines of dried blood made Varyln think of a mirror that had broken.

"I need Wilfred. Have you seen him?" While Varlyn could hear the clipped authority in Justin's question, he also noticed his words were laced with desperation.

"I seen what's left of him. Guess he should have come on down to the river for a dunking." Varlyn hoped his joke would be met with a laugh. It wasn't.

Justin grabbed Varlyn by the collar and threw him against the shack door. "Don't play games with me! Where is he!"

Fear clouded Varlyn's eyes but he managed to speak. "He's dead. I found him earlier. Before you dealt with Scudder. Left him on the hillside for the buzzards."

Justin responded to his words with an ear-splitting scream that sounded as if his heart was being ripped from his body. "He can't be dead. She needs him! His black magic is the only way!" Justin began to stalk the porch like a caged animal on the verge of insanity. For once, Varlyn chose silence as the best recourse.

Finally, Justin stopped his pacing and stood in front of Stroud. "There was an accident. Iris….she…" Justin licked his lips as he struggled to find the words. "I need to bring her back." Justin's words floated between the two men, naked and wretched. Slowly, the reality of Justin's words sunk into Varlyn.

"You saying she's dead?" Varlyn was stunned to find his chest tighten at the news. When Justin did not answer, Varlyn reached out his hand and placed it on Justin's shoulder. This one act seemed to unleash a torrent in Justin as tears welled up in his eyes. "Well then I think we got to go get her and bring her to the Templars. They'll know how to fix her." While he doubted the truth behind his words, Varlyn knew that Justin needed hope to cling to at this moment. Anything less would lead to certain devastation. Leading Justin to the car like a child, Varlyn opened the door and helped Justin in. While this sudden reversal in power should have comforted Varlyn, all it did was unnerve him.

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Across the camp, Ben Hawkins crept silently through the same back door he had walked through not 48 hours before. Making his way down the dim hallway, Ben was just about to climb the stairs when he heard an audible groan coming from the front room. It reminded Ben of the cat he had nursed as a child. The plaintive, wailing sound was the same one the cat had made before dying.

For a moment, Ben froze. It could be another trap. Shaking his head, Ben tried to focus on finding the Preacher. As he started to climb the stairs, he heard another whimper. There was something in the sound that made him turn back. Pressing his back flat against the hall wall, Ben moved like a ghost toward the sound. He crouched down and peeked his head around the corner. It was too dark to see and so he crawled on his knees to get a better look. As he moved along the floor, Ben felt a viscous liquid glide between his fingers. Holding his hand up to inspect it, Ben saw it for what it was: blood. Wiping his hand on his shirt, he continued to move into the parlor.

The sight that greeted him caused Ben to stop in his tracks. Large pools of blood soaked the floor as tiny shards of ceramic from a broken vase glistened like an omen. To his right, a woman lay on the sofa covered in a blanket. A deep red ring had sprung from the fibers marking her with certain death. Peering at the woman, Ben noticed it was the Preacher's sister.

He swallowed hard but forced his eyes to continue their assault on the room. He noticed that there were footprints painted in blood that trailed into the hall and out the door. He knew without knowing that they belonged to the Preacher. His thoughts were interrupted by a soft moan. Ben peered across the room and in the darkness, he could make out the shape of someone lying on the floor. Moving slowly toward the shape, Ben realized with a start that it was the man from the wheelchair. Ben had to force himself from giving into the sudden need to vomit. The scene bore all the grisly markings of the Preacher's handiwork. Norman had been sliced repeatedly and his stomach gutted open. A handle still stuck from his body as a final affront.

He knelt down and reached for the man's hand. Ben jumped back when the man's eyes flew open at the touch.

"You're alive." Knowing he should be looking for the Preacher but unable to turn away from the pleading in the man's eyes, Ben rested one hand on Norman's forehead and placed his other hand on his chest. As Ben lowered his head to begin the healing ritual, Norman struggled to speak.

"Her."

Opening his eyes, Ben looked first to Norman and then to Iris before looking sadly into Norman's beseeching eyes. "Ain't nothing to be done for her."

Clinging to the bit of life that remained in him, Norman grabbed at the boy's hand. "Me…for…her." While his words were faint, Ben understood the request.

"I can't be killin' no man of God. It ain't the way."

"Please, she's…the only…way." Norman could feel the fog in his mind growing thicker. "…only way to stop him."

Ben watched as a single tear fell from Norman's eye. He heard Norman's breathing falter and knew a decision had to be made. Holding Norman's hand tight, Ben looked down at the man.

"It ain't right."

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Varlyn Stroud struggled to keep up with Justin as he barreled through the front door. He was shouting instructions, only half of which Stroud could make out.

"get the money…make sure there is enough gas in the car we can't stop…"

Running on full steam to keep up, Varlyn barreled into Justin's back when Justin stopped short. One sweep of the room told Varlyn why Justin had gone silent. The room bore the look of carnage but there was a missing component. There were no bodies.

The stillness that overtook the room was like a shouting prophecy to Justin's ears. His eyes burned into the sofa as if his desire alone could make her materialize. She had been taken from him again.

"You want I should look in the other rooms?" Varlyn's question was met with silence.

Finally, without turning, Justin spoke, "She isn't here."

Varlyn felt his heart stop when Justin turned slowly to face him. Not a man easily frightened, Varlyn Stroud would have traded places with Satan himself to not be facing the scrutiny of Justin Crowe at this moment. Justin's body had gone rigid and his eyes pitch black. The timber of his voice was controlled but deadly. "Bring me the guards."

Having rounded up the three Knights on duty, Varlyn ushered the men into the room. They found Justin hunched on the sofa tracing an outline of blood. Varyln heard the three men gasp at the sight that greeted them. He took a moment to consider the room from their perspective. It must have looked like it was: a bloodbath.

"Gentlemen, come here." The three Knights went to stand before Justin, each looking more nervous than the next.

"I have a question for you men and I want you to think very carefully before answering. Did someone come into my house this evening?" The three men shifted nervously and exchanged panicky glances. Finally, the Knight known as Berg braved an answer.

"Well Sir, we don't rightly know. With everything that was going on down at the carnival we thought we'd better head down there."

Justin looked at Berg with the slightest of smiles tugging at his lips. "You thought?"

"Well, yes sir. I…" His response was cut off when Justin stood and in one step grabbed the man by the throat. He squeezed until he could see the blood vessels break and seep red into the white's of Berg's eyes. A slight trail of spit ran from Berg's mouth and Justin let him fall to the floor. "Now then," he continued, "does anyone have any other information they would like to share?" Justin looked from one man to the other and waited.

"I seen something. Didn't seem right but then things was so crazy….."

Justin went to stand before the man. "Go on."

The man wiped his suddenly sweaty forehead with the back of his hand. "I seen a man come out of the house carrying something in a blanket. I think it was a person, dead like, cause he put it on the cart with the rest of the bodies we picked up for planting." The man stopped as he watched Justin flinch.

Feeling as though the room had been sucked of oxygen, Justin closed his eyes to silence the screaming in his head. She had been thrown out like the trash. To be buried alongside of those who were nothing. She who deserved to have alters erected in her name had been buried as though she were common. His reflections were cut short by a sudden thought.

"What about the man? Did you recognize him?"

"Oh yes sir. It was the healer from the show tonight. After he dumped the blanket he went back inside and I seen him carrying something to the car. Couldn't get a close enough look at it to tell you what it was though."

"Norman!" Rage seared through Justin's body as he put the pieces of the puzzle together. The boy must have found Norman and healed him. His need to punish became overwhelming and he focused his fury on the two men standing in front of him. Drawing upon the hatred that burned within him, Justin twisted their necks until he heard the familiar pop. Both fell to the ground with a thud. Yet, it did nothing to lessen the emotion that was threatening to overtake Justin. He swept the room for another target on which to inflict pain when his eyes caught sight of a familiar object. Reaching beneath the sofa, Justin gingerly picked up the item and let his fingers glide over the ornate carving. Iris' necklace. He held it up and let his lips linger upon the polished wood. A sudden clarity overtook him. There would be a time for mourning. Now was the time for vengeance.

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The trailer creaked along the winding road creating puffs of smoke that followed the caravan like an omen. Samson glanced over at the body lying in repose behind the shroud. In barely more than a whisper he spoke to the still figure.

"Don't you worry Miss Iris. Everything is gonna be just fine."


	6. Chapter 6

Peering out of the tiny window of Lodz's trailer, Samson noted absently that dawn was breaking. Normally, everyone would be up and about at this time of morning, anxious to get things done before the sweltering heat made even the easiest of tasks a strenuous chore. But this morning the camp was still basking in sleep. No doubt the result of having to travel by the cover of night. They had finally made their way to Lawrenceville and had made camp without incident. Even Lila, with all her words of conspiracy, had been silent. In the long, night drenched travel, they had come together again as a family. A family with problems to be sure, but still a family.

Samson felt his chest tighten as the pride and love he felt for his people filled his tiny body. He glanced over at his sullen companion. Ben was slumped in the chair, a curious mixture of relief and shame aging his boyish features. The boy hadn't said but two words the whole way. Instead, the silence had been replaced by Ben's endless flipping of a bottle cap.

"You wanna tell me what's got you looking like a whore in church?"

The incessant clicking of the bottle cap against the table ceased as Ben barely looked up. "Ain't got nothing to say."

"Well, you'd better think of somethin' real quick cause there's gonna be a whole lotta people wantin' to know what your plan is."

"Ain't got no plan 'cept to go back and get Sophie. Never shoulda left her behind."

Samson turned to look out the window and sighed. "Sophie's gonna be just fine. The girl knows how to take care of herself. What you need to be worrying yourself about is that Preacher."

The clicking of the bottle cap resumed and for a moment Samson was silent. It was true what the boy said about Sophie. They had done her a grave wrong leaving like they had but it couldn't be helped. Samson reckoned he didn't know much but what he did know was that if anyone could make it home it was their Sophie. "Shit!" Samson cursed silently at himself. It was bad enough one of them was wasting time feeling sorry for his self. Now here he was doing the same damn thing. Well not anymore. Glancing over at Ben's brooding face, Samson decided to try a new tactic.

"C'mon boy buck up, bait like this don't just fall into your lap everyday."

Ben looked up confused, letting the bottle cap again go silent. "What bait? You talkin' about that women? Hell, she ain't no bait. Only reason I brought her back was because a man of God asked me…a real man of God."

"No bait?" Samson made a noise halfway between a grunt and an exasperated groan. "Boy you got something the Preacher wants and wants bad I'm guessing. I seen 'em together. No way that Preacher is gonna let you just waltz off with his sister."

"Doubt he even knows we got her."

"I'm telling ya boy, she's the way you're gonna beat him. Trust me."

Ben peered over at Samson startled. "That's what the real preacher said before he went." Ben replaced the bottle cap on its bone dry companion. "I don't know. You ain't seen it. They was gutted. Preacher done that. Why should he care if she's alive when he's the one that killed her?" While he said the words forcefully enough, Samson could hear the doubt begin to creep into Ben's voice.

Ben sat up and began to run his hands up and down his thighs all the while staring at the floor. Samson knew he was thinking on what he'd said and was relieved when Ben asked more hopeful than not "You really think we got somethin'?"

"I sure do! Now what we gotta do is figure out……where the hell you think you runnin' too?" Samson moved quickly to guard the door from Ben's swift moving frame.

"I can't just be sittin' here when that Preacher still got a hold of Sophie. I say we make a trade. If'en what you say is true, he gets what he wants and we get what we want. After that, I'm done with the whole damn thing."

"Boy you addled? You ain't never gonna be done cause you got the gift. Now I'm damn sorry it's you who got it but that's the way it is. Ain't no use wishin' for somethin' that ain't never gonna happen. We can't go havin' you run off half baked."

Ben took a step forward deciding to use his height to intimidate the small man. But one look into Samson's steely eyes and Ben felt as though he'd been cut down knee high to a grasshopper. He skulked back to his chair as Samson pulled up another chair to sit directly in front of him. "Okay boy, I'm running things from here on out. And here's what we're gonna do."

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The first light of dawn break fell upon Iris Crowe and her body responded as it always did at this time of day- she woke up. The stream of light that poured in through the window was overtaken by the darkness that engulfed the trailer. She had the oddest sensation of being home and yet, a quick sweep of the room with her eyes revealed a place Iris had never before seen. She was surprised to find that her first reaction was not to figure out where she was and how she got there but instead to stay in her current state of repose. This place felt right and for now that was enough.

Heavy shrouds were draped around the bed. Whether their intent was to keep someone in or to keep someone out she did not know. Iris turned her head to the left to try and make out some of the contents of the tiny room. She groaned out loud as her stiff muscles resisted this simple movement. Her eyes having adjusted to the curious blend of light and dark, Iris struggled to sit up by leaning on her elbows. A wave of nausea overtook her and convinced her to lie back down. She started to call out for Justin but something stopped her. It was the chiming of a small clock that sat upon the dresser just outside of the shroud. Its tone was oddly familiar as was the feel of wetness upon her brow as if….oh God! The events of the prior night came flooding back into her mind with startling clarity. She closed her eyes as tears escaped from their corners. Everything had been lost…Justin, Norman, the ministry. Yes, she'd known Justin was becoming monomaniacal with each passing day but she'd underestimated his cruelty. For someone so intimately aware of his penchant for callousness, Iris recognized that it should have been she who had predicted last night's events. But her love for Justin had overshadowed all reason just as it always had and now Norman was paying the price. She said a silent prayer to anyone who was still listening that Norman had somehow found a way to escape Justin. Yet, even as the half mumbled words escaped her lips she knew deep within that such an escape was unlikely. Eyeing the room for some clue as to where she was, Iris smiled involuntarily as she realized that for the first time in her life she was more concerned about her circumstances than she was Justin's. Just then her eyes fell upon a small picture frame that sat upon a weathered trunk. She flung herself from the bed crossing the room in two swift steps. Wiping the dust that coated the glass, Iris peered down at a face from long ago. "It can't be," she whispered.

Lila dropped the tray of day old hash down upon the table with a thud. Getting no reaction from her three half-asleep eating companions, she let out a deliberate sigh as she sat down upon the splinter-ridden boards. She picked up her fork and promptly put it back down deciding to take the bull by the horns. "Don't it bother nobody else? Here we barely got enough food for us and now thanks to Samson's new lackey we got another mouth to feed. What's her story anyhow?"

Hunched over her coffee, Rita Sue made no move to answer so Libby took it upon herself to set Lila right. "Alls I know is that Ben helped Jonesey and that's all I gotta know. So why don't you just mind your own business for once. Libby pushed her tray forward and stood up. "Really Lila, just drop it."

"My, my, my aren't we the Queen. You'd do best to remember what you are. No band of cheap gold gonna change that." Lila watched as Libby marched off toward that tent she shared with Jonesey before turning her attention back to Rita Sue and Stumpy. "That little girl of yours is getting' a mighty big head."

"It won't last. These things never do." Rita Sue looked up at Lila. "You make a good point though. What I wanna know is if this woman thinks she's gonna run the show. I heard Samson telling Jonesey that this woman is Management's kid. Beat that."

"No!"

"Yes and that ain't the only thing." Rita Sue paused to take a sip of her lukewarm coffee enjoying tormenting Lila who waited anxiously for the rest of the news. "I heard that she might not be all that happy to be here instead of with that loon brother of hers."

"Well now I suspect things are gonna get mighty interesting around here." Lila started to dig into her hash with renewed gusto when she was stopped by Rita Sue placing a hand over hers. "Seriously Lila, I'm scared. We got no money anymore thanks to Felix here and now we got some church do-gooder around here."

"You don't really think she's gonna take an interest in this place do ya?" Lila took her free hand and covered it over Rita Sue's. "Hell, she'll never last. Just wait till she sees the shittin' pot." That image alone was enough to send Lila into a laughing fit.

Removing her hand from Lila's, Rita Sue grunted "It ain't funny Lila. Somehow I can't see a proper church lady approving of the cooch." Rita Sue tossed what was left of her coffee onto the ground and watched as the parched earth drank it up greedily. She turned to Stumpy and regarded him for a moment. Like always, he sat with his left elbow resting on the table with his hand propping up his head. The right hand was shoveling food into his mouth and his eyes were closed. The overall image reminded Rita Sue of a marionette doll that had lost its strings. "I don't suppose you got nothin' to add?"

Stumpy opened one eye to regard the two women who were looking at him like an annoying mosquito. "I think," he said letting the words draw out "that there ain't nothing worse than two gossiping females." With that, Stumpy closed his eye and resumed eating.

"Honestly Felix, I don't know why I bother." Rita Sue picked up her coffee mug and left the table but not before casting one more disapproving glance in Stumpy's direction. Having lost her meal companion, Lila spent the rest of her breakfast in silence.

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By midmorning, Iris had ransacked the tiny trailer searching for what she had no idea. Clutching the photograph of her mother in one hand, Iris sat down resignedly on the bed. The only sound in the trailer was that of well worn coils as she shifted her weight in a bout of nervous energy. She decided it was in her best interest to at least attempt to figure out what had happened last night. No matter how hard she tried, all she could remember was her fear as she watched Justin threaten Norman. Then everything became muddled. Iris thought she remembered the sound of screaming but the echoes were so far removed from her mind that she couldn't be sure she wasn't just imagining them.

Her reflections were cut by a sharp knock at the door. For a moment, Iris dared not speak. It was clear the person on the other side of the door was not Justin. Knocking had never been his way. Before she could decide on her next action, the door opened slowly. Iris watched nervously as the door opened and was surprised to see no one there. The subtle clearing of a throat forced her eyes downward and Iris inhaled sharply. She felt a new sense of anger build within her.

"You!"

"Beggin' your pardon ma'am but I think you and I had better have a talk." Samson stepped inside slowly not sure what he was dealing with. He regarded Iris for a moment before pulling up a seat in a silent invitation for her to join him. She stood near the bed with her arms folded across her chest defiantly and her lips pursed in annoyance.

"I think you had better tell me just what is going on here." Years of using her voice to keep Justin in line had enabled her to perfect a tone that was both threatening and demanding. If it worked on Justin, she had no doubt it would work on this man. So Iris was more than a little taken aback when Samson started to chuckle. "I'm sorry, I was not aware that I had said something funny."

"My apologies ma'am but I see it now is all."

"You see what exactly, Mr. Samson?"

Samson dropped his hat onto the table and leaned back into the chair. "I see Management. I see your father in ya." He smiled warmly at her enjoying this sudden connection. His smile faded as she turned quickly to look out the window. With her back toward him, Samson couldn't make out her expression.

"I don't believe you know my father."

"I reckon I knew him just about as well as anybody." Samson got up from his chair and walked over to stand behind Iris. "Knew him over 20 years I'd say."

Still facing the window, Iris replied "My father's name is Norman Balthus and I don't believe you know him" She turned to face Samson and looked down at him with eyes that openly defied challenge.

Putting his hands in his pockets, Samson averted his eyes from hers and let them linger on the stained rug under the table. Moments passed before he felt comfortable enough to look her in her eyes. "I know he's the one that raised you," Samson said quietly "but I'm a talkin' about your real daddy."

"My father was a bad man."

"Oh yeah, like your brother is a good man?"

The rage with which she spoken of her father ignited a flame of resentment within Samson. He had answered without thinking and now, seeing her flinch at the mention of her brother's name, felt guilty for it. The two of them stared at one another both acknowledging silently that they were at an impasse.

"I'm sorry Miss Iris but your father was a friend of mine."

Waving off his apology, Iris sat down on the bed and said simply "I want to go home."

Samson shook his head as he walked over and sat down next to her. "That ain't an option."

"It is the only acceptable option. I want to go home…now." She turned and looked him squarely in the eyes.

Samson licked his lips as he shook his head at her audacity. "What for?" Noting her confused look Samson continued. "You say you want to go home and I want to know what for? Hell, your brother left you deader than a stone and now yer itchin' to get back to him? Makes no sense."

Iris stared at Samson her irritated expression softened by a faint trembling of her lips. "My brother would never leave me."

"You remember what happened last night?" Her silence answered his question. "I can't give you no details. Wish I could. You're going to have to talk to Ben about what happened with your brother. All I know is you ain't leaving. Now you are more than welcome to come and go around this camp as you please but for now you'll be staying with us."

"My brother won't allow it."

"He ain't got a choice." Samson retrieved his hat and headed for the door. His hand on the knob, he turned and looked at Iris. "People around here is friendly once they come to know ya. If you need anything…" Samson gave her a nod and turned to leave.

Iris turned to the window and watched in stunned silence as Samson walked off. The nerve of that man telling her she wasn't allowed to leave! Iris scanned the outside for clues as to her whereabouts but only saw a dust ladden openness. It was if she had been plucked up and placed in the middle of nowhere.

A million questions raced through her mind. Where was Justin? Had he been harmed and what was this nonsense about him leaving her? Had he finally fulfilled his threat to leave her behind? Iris suspected the answers to these questions lie in the shadowy grayness of her mind. But what those answers were she couldn't say. This realization caused an icy shudder to run through Iris that was in stark contrast to the oppressive heat. For the first time in her life, Iris Crowe was alone.


	7. Chapter 7

Iris Crowe sat on the oblong bed tapping her left foot impatiently. The nerve of that man telling her she could not leave! Did these people really think that she would just sit idly by as they plotted against her brother? If so, then they were sadly underestimating her. Folding her arms across her chest in a huff, Iris considered her situation. Where on earth was Justin? A slight frown played across her face as a traitorous thought leapt to her mind. Perhaps he had finally left her behind. So many times during this past year, she had feared his abandonment and now it would seem her fears had come to pass. But why now?

"No!" Iris shook her head violently to erase her doubts. If she wanted answers, and she did, there was only one person who could give them to her. She had to find Ben.

Iris walked to the door and took hold of the worn knob. Taking a deep breathe she turned it slowly and allowed the door to crack a hair. The light that flooded in from the tiny opening assaulted her eyes and Iris blinked rapidly. Her eyes finally growing accustomed to the brightness, she opened the door fully and surveyed her surroundings curiously. Everything about this place was foreign to her. Men and women with an array of oddities milled about while large tents were erected with seemingly little effort. As she walked though the tent aware of the stares her presence was generating, she recognized a couple of people from their impromptu visit to her home the night of the carnival. Most, however, were nameless faces who it appeared had made it their life's work to remain unobtrusive in the midst of chaos. And the scene around her would definitely qualify as frenzied. To her right, men worked feverishly digging a large ditch. Sweat poured forth from their bodies as they worked and joked using language Iris had never before heard in mixed company. To her left, two women were practicing what seemed to be a dance number but were moving in ways that caused Iris to feel flushed. As she walked around the camp, Iris was accosted by a myriad of sounds and smells that seemed to touch off within her a groundswell of emotion from some long forgotten memory.

She had just turned twenty when her brother insisted that they visit the traveling carnival that had stopped on the edge of town. That summer had been one of the hottest on record and she had resisted, preferring instead to stay at home. Justin had cajoled her into going with him with promises of caramel covered apples and time spent alone. It was the latter promise that had compelled her to go and to ride upon the Ferris wheel despite her fear of heights. He had found his own inimitable way of distracting her from her fears via searching hands and lingering kisses. The sound of a not too subtle clearing of a throat catapulted her back into the present.

Iris surveyed with critical eyes the woman who stood before her. She wore an ornate dress and Iris could tell instinctively she was a large presence in both size and personality. But it was her face that really set her apart. Try as she might, Iris could not help but look at the long strands of dark curly hair that flowed from the woman's chin.

"Never seen nothing like me before have ya? I'd imagine you're gonna be seein' a whole lot of new things around here." The woman stepped closer to Iris in a move Iris recognized immediately as one designed to intimidate her.

"I'm sorry I didn't mean to stare." Iris hoped to disarm the woman with an apology but that hope was quickly dashed.

"Listen lady you can look all you want. What I'm interested in is what you're planning on doing around here." Despite her desire to increase the space between them, Iris stayed rooted to the ground and looked up at the woman

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

"What she means is are you planning to shut us down or what?" The question seemed to come from directly behind her and Iris turned to find a woman with blonde hair wearing barely more than a slip glaring at her. With one arm on her hip, the woman ran her free hand through her hair, as she slowly looked Iris over. "Well," she continued, "you certainly aren't what I expected." That last comment elicited a grunt from the bearded woman and Iris could feel the anger building within her. Taking a step back so that she was facing both women, Iris decided to use the same tactic she often used on Justin's more irksome associates. She shielded her eyes from the sun with one hand and smiled disarmingly at both of the women.

"I am not sure what you've heard but I have no intention of staying here let alone becoming involved in this operation. In fact, I'd be very grateful if one of you could direct me toward Ben." Iris watched as both women exchanged suspicious glances.

"C'mon Rita Sue. I think I know a little runt who can give us more answers than she can." As they started to walk away, the woman with the beard stopped and turned to face Iris.

"I'd steer clear of Ben if I were you. It's your brother he hates but I suspect you'd do in a pinch. Take it from me. He ain't too particular when it comes to killing." The blonde woman grabbed her arm and the bearded lady went silent.

Watching them walk off whispering, Iris stood fuming. If there was one thing that made her incensed, it was being dismissed. She had learned a long time ago how to suffer fools gladly. Her work on Justin's behalf often put her in contact with people she found insufferable but these two women were in a class by themselves. As the weight of her circumstances finally bore down upon her, Iris took out her frustration on a lone pebble as she allowed a few choice Russian words to escape from her mouth.

"Don't mind them. They ain't happy unless they're causing trouble." Iris looked up to find a thin man leaning against a tree chewing on a twig. A bemused smile tore at the corners of his mouth and Iris was suddenly very self-conscious. It wasn't often that she allowed her temper to get the best of her and she certainly wasn't someone to have public tantrums. Yet, this man seemed more amused than shocked by her little outburst.

"Name's Felix Dreifuss, though everyone 'round here calls me Stumpy." He took the twig from his mouth and tossed it onto the ground.

"And what do you do around here Mr. Dreifuss?"

He tilted his head up slightly considering her question as a large smile spread across his face. "You might say I was a purveyor of worldly goods."

"A charlatan then." Expecting the man to be offended, Iris clasped her hands together and waited for his response. She was more than a little taken aback when he swiped at his mouth in a lazy attempt to stifle a chuckle.

"I suppose that's another way to put it." Stumpy ran both of his thumbs along the lines of his suspenders as the smile crept slowly from his face. Trying vainly to hide her discomfort, Iris held his gaze until the silence became too much for both of them and they each looked away.

Still looking out at the barren plains, Iris posed the question that had been lingering on her tongue for hours. "Do you have any idea where we are?" She hoped the question sounded innocent enough to belie her true motives but the slight hitch in her words made them sound desperate even to her. His silence caused her eyes to wander back to his where she saw pity mixed with understanding. Realizing she was not going to get her answer and humiliated by her clumsy attempt, Iris began to chew absently on her lower lip as she smoothed the wrinkled from her skirt.

He watched as her façade of nonchalance faltered. It was always interesting to Stumpy the ways of a woman. Most relied upon either histrionics or their sex appeal to get what they wanted. She had done neither choosing instead the direct approach. It was only later that he would realize that was the moment when she had won his trust.

"You know I think for a second there my manners just up and left me. Why don't you let me show you around this place? Might help you to get to know a few people. Make you feel more at home." He said the words with such forced happiness that Iris could see instantly the kindnesses that underlie each utterance. She smiled in spite of herself.

"Thank you but no. I am trying to find someone. Thank you just the same."

"Who you lookin' for?"

"A man named Ben. Samson told me….well, I just need to see him." Iris swallowed as she realized that she did not have the first inkling what she was going to ask this Ben once she found him. A sudden fear gripped her stomach as she realized that not only did she not know the appropriate questions but that the answers might alter her world in a manner for which she was utterly unprepared.

"Well now that's gonna be a problem. Ben drove out of here early this morning. Running some sort of errand for Samson I expect. I'm sure he'll be back directly."

It was impossible for Stumpy to read the look that briefly flashed across Iris' face. She looked up at him a small smile masking her true feelings. "Well, then I guess I'll wait. You wouldn't happen to have a bath around here would you?"

"Now there's a question I don't get a lot. We've got a shower of sorts but I'd suggest waiting till dark unless you'd like to give everyone a free show." A pink flame singed her cheeks and Stumpy found himself resisting the urge to laugh.

"Well I'll be. We don't get too many women blushing around here."

Scolding herself silently for being so obvious, Iris gave one more small smile. "I'm feeling a little tired. I think I will go back to the trailer. Have a nice day Mr. Dreifuss." Before Stumpy could say a word, she turned and left.

Kicking the dirt, Stumpy leaned back against the tree and watched as she made her way throughout the camp. Stumpy shoved his hands in his pockets and considered their brief exchange. She certainly didn't look like he'd expected. In a way, he was a bit disappointed. You'd think the sister of the anti-Christ would be a bit more imposing. Instead, she'd seemed downright conventional save for the way she carried herself. Stumpy had been around the block enough times to recognize false mannerisms and that smile was as fake as they came. But he had to admit she was good. In fact, he doubted anyone but him and maybe Samson would have caught its insincerity. She certainly was no rube. In his line of work, pretense often superceded truth. People always accepted a happy pretext. It saved them from dealing with many of life's harsh realities. But for the people who had to maintain the illusion, life could be lonely. This was something Stumpy had learned long ago and he had the odd sensation that Iris Crowe knew something about that isolation.

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She didn't seem afraid which was a good thing. In Samson's mind, there wasn't anything worse than an irrational woman. It still bothered him her reaction to the mention of her father but one look into those cerulean colored eyes-Management's eyes- and Samson reckoned he'd forgive her just about anything. She had his quiet grace, a quality he noted immediately as missing in her brother.

He stretched out on his bed lacing his fingers behind his head. If everything went according to plan, she would not be hurt. It would take a few days, but they would know more when Ben returned. Frustration challenged any sense of relaxation within Samson and he sat up in the bed drumming his right fingers on the windowsill. Everything depended on whether he could trust Ben to stay the course. One mistake and she might have to be sacrificed. The thought chilled his blood as Samson finally acknowledged the potential for mistakes. People were going to die and it was up to him to make sure that number was as small as possible.


	8. Chapter 8

The pebble-laden ground crackled under the weight of the car as it made its way over the hill to its destination. Darkness engulfed the automobile as Varlyn Stroud steered by the light of the moon and the occasional ember of a lit cigarette. From behind him, he could hear the labored breathing of the body in the backseat. Checking to make sure there was no movement from the back, Varlyn pulled over to the side of the road anxious to reflect on recent events without having to worry about watchful eyes. They were everywhere these days. Eyes racked with sorrow for the dead, eyes of distrust for the story he had told so many times now even he sometimes believed it and eyes filled with admiration for the way he had helped ensure the migrants didn't desert camp when news of massacre had spread. However, it was from the troubled eyes of Brother Justin that Varlyn truly wished to escape.

Nothing had been the same after that night of the carnival. In the immediate aftermath, he had worked with the other Knights of Jericho to clean up as much of the carnage as possible. As they had worked to erase the carnage from within the tent, Varlyn questioned whether Justin would be able to resume his role as leader. Justin had remained back at the house locked in a room refusing to see anyone. It was only after an agonizing wait that Justin had opened the door and summoned for Varlyn. He still shivered when he thought of the image that had greeted him when he entered Justin's study.

Alone at his desk, Justin had sat facing the window with his back toward Varlyn. Darkness obscured his features save for a dim desk lamp that cast just enough light to turn dark into shadow. All that Varlyn could make out was a tightly clenched fist that was dripping blood. Taking a step closer, Varlyn realized that Justin was clutching the necklace that had belonged to Iris so firmly that it had cut into the soft skin on his palm. Yet, Justin barely seemed to notice. He had spoken a mere three words that evening –"Find the girl"- but it had been enough to reaffirm Varlyn's faith in his messiah.

Dealing with the panic of the migrants had been a slightly more difficult task. This was where Iris' death had helped the cause, though Varlyn would never give such a thought voice in front of Justin. But the fact that Justin had lost a loved one that night too seemed to create an air of sympathy for Justin that overwhelmed any sense of doubt. Brother Justin had summoned everyone together under the tent and had conducted a fire and brimstone sermon the likes of which Varlyn had never before seen. Folks who had entered the tent sure of what they had seen left convinced that Brother Justin's story of evil and sorcery was gospel. The police had been a little more skeptical of Justin's claim that a migrant had been possessed by the devil and had committed unspeakable crimes. It helped that the migrant in question was willing, in fact very willing, to take responsibility for his actions and had even stood before the congregation begging for forgiveness. Besides, the police had been very willing to let the matter drop for fear that the good townsfolk might start questioning their safety.

Now, more than a week after he had been given his orders, Varlyn Stroud could finally claim success. He rolled down the window in an unsuccessful bid to cool the steamy air of the car. Not one to indulge in moments of reflection, Varlyn shifted uncomfortably as the heaviness of the silence of the night weighed upon his shoulders. He was not a man used quiet reflection and he found such times oddly disconcerting. Inhaling, he caught slight whiff lavender.

It smelled liker her.

Varlyn closed his eyes and tried to feel again how her lips had felt pressed to his. To remember the way her body had melded with his own as he had lifted her and held her against the wall. The fact that she had fought it had only increased his determination. Now sitting here alone, Varlyn felt the loss of her keenly. It had been so long since he had had a woman.

It was true, he supposed, that he could just pick another. Hell, the bitch in the back would do if sex were all he was after. No, it was something else. Varlyn took the tobacco paper from his pocket and carefully ran his tongue along the tip. As he rolled the tobacco, it dawned on him the real reason no other woman appealed to him. He had wanted to break her; to tear down her defenses until she was left vulnerable before him. He had known she was the one from the first time he had laid eyes upon her. She had shown no fear even when he had assaulted her in the hall. Surprise yes but never fear. And if there was one thing on earth Varlyn Stroud lived for it was instilling fear.

As he puffed in silence, a small moan drifted from the backseat. Irritated, he flicked the barely smoked cigarette out the window and turned to peer into the backseat. "I'll tell you what I'm gonna do," he said to the battered body of the girl in the back. "I'm gonna take you right on up to Brother J where you can tell him the same story you told me. Maybe he'll believe you. But then again, maybe he just won't care." he said the last word with such a menacing laugh that even the unconscious body in the back flinched.

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Her first thought was that she could simply run but she quickly nixed that idea based on practicality. Iris had not an inkling where they had taken her and the prospect of wandering around like a nomad had a very limited appeal. For the past week, she had kept to herself as best she could rarely leaving the trailer. Samson had seemed to sense her reluctance to assimilate with the group and had started leaving meals on the step for her. On the rare occasions when someone ventured to knock on her door, she would pretend to be asleep.

However, tonight, peering out of the window at the stars overhead, Iris Crowe felt trapped. All around her the carnival was bustling with everyone appearing to have a specific job; everyone but her. The concept of having nothing to do was foreign to Iris. For as long as she could remember, she had risen with the dawn to perform countless tasks all with the same goal in mind: to ensure that Justin would fulfill his potential. As she released her hold, Iris watched as the heavy drapes fell back in place with a gentle swoosh. The room was starting to close in on her and Iris feared for her sanity if she did not escape from her tiny area quarters. Being here, surrounded by all of that man's things, was flooding her with emotions long thought buried. Enough was enough and if ever the time was right to leave then it was tonight.

Stepping outside, Iris allowed herself to savor the feel of the slight breeze upon her hot skin. She had not realized how stuffy the trailer had been until now and she welcomed the sense of freedom being outdoors afforded her. The cover of night made her less of an oddity among the carnival people. She walked past some tents when she spied the answer to her prayers. An old jalopy was parked at the end of the road and if she was lucky, she just might be able to get it started. Just as she was about to approach the vehicle, a voice startled her.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." Looking around frantically, Iris could see nothing but the darkness of light. Just then, a match was struck, and Iris could make out the faint outline of a face.

"Oh, you gave me quite a start," she gently reprimanded. "I was just taking a little stroll to get some fresh air."

"Yeah, I see where you were strolling too and I think you ought to know that thing ain't run right since I bought it. And I never leave the keys in it." He said the last part flippantly but Iris could still make out his meaning. None of them were as dumb as she had hoped.

"I just want to go home." The words came out so unexpectedly that it was hard to tell who was more surprised. As her words hung in the air between them, Iris felt the loss of all she knew come flooding over her like an ocean wave that crests higher than expected. She had lost her bother, her home and even her life's work overnight. All that remained now was a desperation to reclaim what had been taken.

Before she could help herself, her eyes flooded with tears that overflowed in a mockery to her strength. In the end, it was a vicious circle. The angrier she got at herself for crying, the harder she cried. It was as if a torrent had opened up; one that could not be closed but could only run its inevitable course.

Stumpy looked at Iris feeling decidedly uncomfortable. He liked to think he could handle a woman and in most cases he would have been right. He certainly had enough experience dealing with Rita Sue's mood swings but a crying woman. Well now, that was something altogether different. Everything within him told him to walk away. But there was something about the way he could see her railing against her own pain that kept him glued to his spot.

When her tears finally subsided, she looked up at him with red-rimmed eyes. "I am sorry. I don't know what came over me." She wiped her tear-stained hands on her skirt and attempted as light smile.

"It's hard to lose the people you love." That simple statement uttered quietly and with conviction told Iris everything she needed to know about the man who stood before her. On some level, he knew; knew what it meant to be the one left behind.

"I think I had better be heading back." She started back toward the trailer and then stopped. She looked like she was making up her mind about something. Her decision made, she turned toward Stumpy and said "Thank you, Mr. Dreifuss."

"Stumpy." He watched as she swallowed hard and looked up to the sky before looking back over at him.

"No. I don't think so. You don't seem to me like a Stumpy but you do seem like a Felix."

"Well now, I suppose that is what my mama thought as well." She laughed a little and Stumpy found himself grinning for no real reason other than sheer comfort. As she bade goodnight, Stumpy called out "Hey let me ask you a question. What's the silliest thing you find yourself missing being out here?"

She considered the question for a moment before answering him seriously. "I think what I miss is having a bath every morning."

"That's a woman for you."

Shaking her head slightly at his cheekiness, Iris turned to leave. Over her should she said "Goodnight, Felix." This time the smile she gave him was sincere.


	9. Chapter 9

Jeremiah Bolden and Asa Denton sat next to each other on the worn sofa; their knob knees touching slightly in an unspoken show of solidarity. They had come to learn that small talk on evenings such as this was futile. Evenings like this were a waiting game.

Running his thumb along the inside of his britches, Asa shifted uncomfortably as his stomach whimpered its disapproval. "Lansake Jeremiah, how long you reckon this gonna take. I ain't hardly had enough to fill a rabbit."

Jeremiah regarded his normally amiable companion for a moment before shaking his head. "You'd be a dern fool to leave now. You know the rules."

"Yeah I know." It had been the same every night for the past two weeks. They'd find the girl and then they'd dispose of her. In a way, it was an honor being asked to aid Brother Justin. Asa could remember vividly how proud he had been when word had come that Brother Justin had requested him specially. Pride soon turned to disgust as he realized what his mission would entail. It wasn't as if Asa were some meek, lily livered nancy boy. Years of working on a chain gang had provided Asa with a tough hide; or so he had thought. But there was something about seeing the wanton faces of those girls who just hours before had been filled with such life. Stretching his arms behind him, he caught a glance of Jeremiah and wondered not for the first time whether he was as troubled by their assignment as he.

It had been bad enough in the beginning when only one rule had been issued: Choose no one who will be missed. But now it was getting harder with this last assignment virtually impossible. The edict had been clear. This time he wanted a redhead. But it couldn't just be any redhead. No, it had to be dark and cast more copper than orange. Asa almost had to chuckle as he remembered Jeremiah's confused expression as he had blurted out "Where the hell we gonna find someone like that?" Yet, all humor had evaporated quickly as Asa's mind made an involuntary connection. He wanted someone who looked like Miss Iris. Leaning back further into the couch, Asa was just about to give voice to his concerns when a horrifying shriek of terror sliced through the silence.

Turning toward his companion, Jeremiah offered a feeble smile."Guess you're in luck, Asa. Sounds like they'll be finishing up directly."

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With a final thrust, Justin Crowe watched as the eyes of the woman beneath him clouded over in unmistaken madness. He rolled off her silently grabbing at his robe. Without a backward glance, he plodded down the hall to the bathroom in a calculated rhythm that had become ritual. Entering the small bathroom, he turned to bolt the lock into place exhaling deeply as it clicked in submission. The sound was just loud enough to echo downstairs where he knew the men would hear. This was their unspoken signal.

Turning the shower knob as far left as it could go, he waited until the room filled with steam. Slipping off his robe, Justin stepped gingerly into the shower steeling himself against the scolding surge of water. With one hand braced against the shower wall, he leaned forward letting the water cascade over top him creating a veil from the world.

It should have worked! The guards had chosen well. He hadn't expected an exact match for perfection could never be duplicated. But her auburn hair was a close enough equivalent when viewed in the dark of night and she'd been of the right size. He had even dressed her and allowed her to use some of the lavender water still residing in the chipped perfume bottle; the very bottle he had given I _her_ years before. Yes, it should have worked. But it hadn't.

She had moaned when_she _would have whimpered, had gasped when_she_ would have cried out. There had been other less substantial differences as well. A touch too light. A disjointed cadence in the way their bodies met, never quite melding to the oneness he so desired. Justin had clenched his eyes tight in the hopes that the smell of_her_ perfume mixed with the feel of _her _slip beneath him might give him the release he so desired. It had been building for days. This sense of loss and frustration that had at its core a primal longing. A longing for _her_.

Turning abruptly, Justin let the scolding water singe his skin. He steeled himself with a deep breathe as he closed his eyes and visualized the water streaming down his back; pouring into the crevices of each tree branch marking them with pinkened stains. He recognized, of course, that it was his own fault. There would never be any way to duplicate what he had with _her_.

But he had to try. Those first nights he had been so bereft with grief that he had toyed with the notion of ending his own life. The thought of freeing himself from the shackles of this world still appealed but he could not risk a state of purgatory that did not include _her_. _"_In my house there are many kingdoms_"_ so said the good book. He would not risk entering his own dark kingdom without _her_. A temporary life without her was bearable. An eternity separated from _her _was not.

So Justin Crowe had embarked on a mission to find relief. The first few girls he had found eager and far too docile for his taste. Yet, he had tried to envision _her_ instead of them always with dire results. Try as he might, they would ultimately jolt him back to a reality where he was alone. And for that they each had been punished into a shadowy madness as black as his world had become.

He recognized that his outburst tonight had been the most violent but passed that off as an unavoidable side effect of his mission. The scent of lavender had wafted through the air carrying him back to their first time. So lost in his memory was he that the waif's heartbreaking cries beneath him had jolted him from his nirvana into an unpleasant present. All the feelings of loss came flooding back to him as did his rage at not having been able to save the one person he cherished above all others. It was the girl's own fault really. If she had just remained mute, he would never have harmed her so.

Cupping his hands to catch a stream of water, Justin watched as it overflowed over and through his fingers before splashing it onto his face. It stung but it was a necessary part of the ritual. Justin grabbed for the bristle brush and began the arduous task of scrubbing away every last vestige of the girl. He scoured his body to the point where his pale skin had turned red, always red, and he reached for the towel. Satisfied that no trace of the girl lingered, he began his most treasured part of the ritual.

Walking slowly down the hall he bypassed his room noting from the corner of his eye that it was empty. He made a quick mental note to compliment the men on their efficiency this evening. Approaching the door, Justin felt the same shiver of anticipation that always accompanied this action every night. He opened the door and walked inside, stopping only to lock the door behind him. Brushing aside all the painful memories this same locked door had caused him, Justin walked to the dresser and retrieved the necklace. Slipping it over his head, he took a moment to enjoy the feel of its weight upon his skin. Where only ink once marked his inherited destiny, her necklace now marked his chosen one. Justin removed his robe and slid, naked, between the covers.

He had refused to let her room be cleaned for fear that the last remnants of her would be lost to him forever. The smell of lavender upon her sheets had grown faint but if he concentrated hard enough, Justin could still detect the muted sweetness of her hair where it had once laid upon the pillow. Closing his eyes, Justin waited for sleep to come and take him to a world where Irina awaited. A few minutes later, he was granted entry to that world. And, for a few fleeting moments, Justin Crowe was at peace.


End file.
